


Public Decree

by honeyedlion



Category: Princess Princess (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Multi, Other, Public Sex, Sex Toys, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:05:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyedlion/pseuds/honeyedlion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikoto ponders life, and why Tooru keeps jabbing him with his elbow. Sex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Public Decree

              “Hurry up, Shihoudani!” Mikoto hissed, his eyes tight with irritation, as he scrunched his knees tightly into his chest to make room for the other boy to squeeze past. “Why are you so late?”

               “Never mind that.”

          Yuujiro breezed past, long hair in a disarray, dress rumpled, and was that a stain? Mikoto leaned a little closer, but Yuujiro shoved him back. “What is your problem Mikoto? If you have time to stare, go and help Kouno get ready!”  
  


Mikoto huffed, hands bunching into fists at his side, before tossing his head and stomping off. A long fall of artificial hair swung behind him, pink in the exact same shade as his own. He still had no idea where Natashou-sempai had procured it. Where did he buy half of this stuff anyway? Mikoto tilted his head thoughtfully, before knocking on the door to the dressing room, where Tooru still was.

               “Kouno? Are you in there?”

               “H-hai.”

               “Do you want help?” Mikoto frowned at the sound of Tooru cursing, one hand lingering in over the door handle. Hmm. One of his nails had chipped. He needed to fix tha-

               He shook his head to clear it, and then sighed loudly. “Okay, well hurry up. Shihoudani and I will be waiting for you at the bleachers. On the court. You remember?”

               “Yes, yes, all right!” shouted Tooru, and Mikoto stomped back the way he’d come, glowering unbecomingly. What was wrong with all of them? Oh well. For once he wasn’t the one late and floundering although he would have preferred Shihoudani’s suffering to Tooru’s… He gasped, and leaned for a moment on the wall.

               To think such cruel thoughts! Ah, that Shihoudani was rubbing off on him for sure. Thankfully Megumi-san was not here to see him so disgraceful. Thinking cruel thoughts and his nail had chipped. What would she-

               “Stop grinning, it’s weird.”

               Mikoto gasped. The object of his ill wishes.

               “What?” Shihoudani muttered suspiciously, before perking up to wave at a group of boys crossing the hallway in front of them.

               “Ehhh, nothing, nothing. Tooru said he’d be here soon.”

               Hmm, thought Mikoto. Wonder why hearing that had such a reaction. And he thought my grin was creepy.

:

               “Everybody!” Shihoudani called out, and Mikoto huffed again as his dulcet tones made a few hundred male heads turn their way. Mikoto fidgeted a little with the hemline of his dress. Today they were actually wearing color. Apparently Natashou had been inspired and this inspiration had led to Mikoto being forced into some sort of green peasant girl outfit. Natashou had been getting sneakier too; this hemline was well above his knees.

               He saw the chipped nail and tucked that hand behind him, before waving feebly with his other hand. Damn Shihoudani.

               The announcer’s voice picked up, and they took their seats near the top of the bleachers, but not the complete top. It was an informal game, between two of the school’s baseball teams, and while there was quite a student turnout, many of the bleachers were still quite deserted. Shihoudani was settling easily onto one of the hard metal seats, his legs elegantly crossed at the ankles.

               “Where’s Kouno-kun already?” Mikoto muttered, scuffing at the ground with one foot.

               “I’m-I’m right here.”

               And yes he was, but something was wrong. Mikoto couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was off. His wig was rumpled as though hastily pulled on, and one of the buttons on his dress was fastened wrong. Shihoudani seemed to notice the same thing.

               “Ara ara, look. You buttoned this wrong. What were you doing if not getting pretty?”

               He reached passed Mikoto, tugging Tooru into the space in between them, and re-buttoned his top, hands lingering… strange. Tooru looked pale, and a little nauseous. Or something. Maybe he ate something off for breakfast.

               “I’m fine Shihoudani. It certainly is my fault for not making it down here in time, after all the help you gave me in the dressing room.” Shihoudani just smiled, at him, that coy little grin. Mikoto hmphed to himself, crossing his arms over his chest. They never helped him. He always had to do his make-up by himself.

               “Whatever. You’re both here. Let’s shut up and watch the game.” Mikoto said finally, annoyed by the blatant favoritism and weird eye-contact. Why didn’t he know what they were talking about? He was a princess too. He tucked his chipped nail into the folds of his skirt, and bit his lip.

               He looked down only to scowl at a boy beaming up at him. Yech. Why did he pick this school again?

               -bump-

               Mikoto scooted to the side a little.

               -bump-

               He frowned, and tried to tuck himself over a little, but

               -bump-

               “Kounooo. Why do you keep…” Mikoto trailed off, covering his mouth with one hand. No way.

               “Ah. Mikoto. Don’t look.” Mikoto drew back, before pulling close again, uncomfortably aware of the people on the same bench as them.

               “Yuujiro…” Tooru moaned, a low sound, deep in his throat, and his hips twisted, elbow bumping into Mikoto’s side, where his hand was wrapped around Yuujiro’s. Yuujiro’s hand that was pumping him slowly, working like a massage in Tooru’s lap. Mikoto could see him making a tent of the fabric from how hard he was.

               “Ah, ah…” Tooru whimpered, and Mikoto pulled closer as though in spite himself, only to glance up at Yuujiro’s crow of triumph.

               “Ah, even Mikoto is interested. Isn’t he pretty?” Tooru mewled, hips bucking into the air, flashing the garters holding his stockings up, and Mikoto gulped. He wasn’t wearing that. When had they passed those out, delicate straps of silk and tiny rosebuds?

               “Shh. Someone will hear you!” Mikoto hissed, and Yuujiro laughed again, a low sound, and Mikoto could feel his blood pounding in his ears, from nerves and something else. Yuujiro’s hand was still pumping, delicate lacquered nails, and soft palms working in a lewd rhythm, pulling and twisting through the fabric, his other arm wrapped around Tooru, holding up from sprawling back against the bench behind him.

               Mikoto felt terribly uneasy. He could hear the people shifting and talking just behind him, though only barely. His ears felt heavy and warm from the sound of Kouno whimpering, and the rustling of his dress and Shihoudani just- just molesting him. His heart was beating heavily. He leaned forward helplessly, trying desperately to keep anyone from seeing what they were doing.

               “Ah, Mikoto-chan. Did you want to play? Normally I don’t share, but I suppose this once…” Mikoto was shaking his head furiously, not quite daring to look at Shihoudani during the refusal. Tooru was looking at him pleadingly, his hips still bucking, so needy. Whenever Shihoudani caught him by the wrist he wasn’t even surprised.

               Tooru was thick and warm in his palm, and Mikoto thought fleetingly of Megumi, and wondered how she would feel in comparison, but his thoughts felt fuzzy. Tooru had his eyes closed and was grinding into his hand, his whole body writhing on the metal bleachers, and Mikoto wrapped his hand tighter, unthinkingly making Tooru squeal. He looked up, and Shihoudani was watching them hungrily, licking his lips, already slick with lip gloss, and Mikoto wondered what he tasted like, and the thought made him dizzy, and a little sick.

               “Do you want to know why he’s like this?” and Tooru’s eyes shot open, a whine coming from his throat, but Mikoto wasn’t watching him. His hand pumped on auto pilot, still held by Shihoudani. He was watching Shihoudani, watching the way his mouth quirked, and the way his pulse fluttered in the open collar of his dress. It made him feel heavy, and he wasn’t thinking about anyone else anymore, not Megumi, or the people behind them.

               “Why?” Mikoto whispered, his throat dry, and when Shihoudani lifted Tooru’s skirt with a flourish his eyes widened.

               Tooru was slick, and wet along the inside of his thighs sticky, and Mikoto looked at the toy tucked into him, the switch tucked into the top of his garter, pressed as fast as it could go. And now he could hear it, a very faint buzzing, coming from where it was buried so deeply inside of Tooru.

               “Mikoto…” Tooru whined, hands trying to bat Shihoudani away to lower his skirt. “Don’t look.”

               I shouldn’t, Mikoto thought a little desperately, I really shouldn’t be looking. But Tooru was spread open and wet, and so smooth. Mikoto’s hands were just hovering now, held above Tooru’s lap, and he squeaked when Yuujiro pushed his hand down, sliding the length of his palm along where Tooru was hard, and straining. His fingers curled around the flesh almost unconsciously, and he swallowed at the feeling, so hard in his palm.

               “Don’t just hold it, move.” Yuujiro hissed. “And hurry, the bleachers are starting to fill up.”

               Mikoto’s hand started moving, sharp jerky pulls, and Tooru was muttering desperately a feverish quality to his voice that alternated between pleading, and cursing them both. It was unexpectedly arousing, and Mikoto shifted helplessly on his own metal seat, hoping his own erection was less obvious. Tooru’s hips were moving constantly, pushing up into his hand, and then back down onto the toy still buried deep within him. Mikoto could see where the cord led inside, held open by Yuujiro’s slick fingers.

               “Ah, Yuujiro. I’m close,” Tooru whimpered, and Yuujiro smiled, a warm little smile, and winked at Mikoto before bending over, his long hair falling like a curtain around his face. Mikoto slowed his hand movements, to watch his mouth seal slickly around the red head, those lipgloss slick lips pursing as he sucked, and suddenly Tooru was arching, one hand clamping onto Mikoto’s wrist painfully hard, and the other backwards across his own mouth in an attempt to stifle the cries falling from his mouth.

               “Ah,” Yuujiro murmured, sitting up easily. His hands were rearranging Tooru, who was limp on the seat, his hands smoothing his layers back into order, and untangling the long curls of his wig, graceful and clean, hands you would never know had just been. . . Mikoto rubbed his hands roughly across the skirt of his gown.

               “That was fun Tooru,” Yuujiro said, his voice a teasing sing-song “But the toy stays in.” Tooru and Mikoto groaned.

               “And now, a small word from our Princesses!”

               “Work, work!” Yuujiro said, and pulled them up, a blinding smile drawn across his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Pull up your [skirt](http://honeyedlion.tumblr.com/). Or submit a request.


End file.
